I was reading an article a while back that said it was Murphy's Law that as soon as the man of the house leaves, something is bound to break, fall apart, or some other obnoxious thing will happen that will force his wife to deal with it.
Murphy is dirty rat bastard.
Within the first 24 hours of M being gone my skill of holding down the fort is being stretched to it's limits.
We woke up on Saturday morning and the water in both toilets was brown. Nasty sewer color (and smell). I freaked and tried to flush them, but the water level just got higher. Almost like it was clogged. I stood in the bathroom squealing, "don't overflow, ew, ew, ew, don't overflow!"
How's that for crisis managment?
I decided to just leave it for the time being, sent M a text, and tended to the baby.
M's reponse was that they were probably flushing the pipes in Fairfax and to hit it up with the plunger. I plunged the hell out of the upstairs toilet and after a few flushes it was back to normal. The water still looks a little funny colored, but it smells normal. Phew!
We had a pretty laid back morning, went grocery shopping with no incident, came home and suited up for a nice walk. We had a great hilly 5k walk! When I got home, I put the dog out on the back porch (we leave the door open on nice days to get fresh air moving through the house) and she started barking like mad. I went out to see what she was barking at this time, and almost swallowed my eyeballs.
The people with the giant house behind the condo complex had a bear in their dumpster.
Cue screaming.
Dixie didn't stop barking, and I remembered what M told me to do if I ever saw one in the woods. I started jumping up and down and screaming like an idiot. The bear took off into the woods, I dragged an extremly overexcited Dixie back in the house, and called the police.
Another text to M.
Everything managed to stay in one piece and Mom and I went to watch my sister and my Dad perform at a local resturant. They are freakin' amazing... so seriously check out their videos.
Freaking amazing huh?!
I think so.
It was the middle of the night when Murphy really showed me what he meant with his silly laws.
The dog normally needs to go out at least once in the middle of the night, so when Shannon gets up for her middle of the night feeding, I put Dixie out, feed the baby, then bring the dog back in.
I put her out, as usual and she started barking like a mad thing right away. We live in a condo community type thing, and I'm sure nobody would be pleased to be woken up by a barking dog at 230 in the morning. I opened the door to call her in and she did her best impression of a dog blatently ignoring me. I was just in one of M's big tshirts and a pair of underwear, and the damn dog was out at the end of her line.
Damn.
I looked around, then darted out to reel Dixie's happy ass back in the house. When I looked up, not 3 feet away from us was a big mother of a skunk. I squealed, grabbed the dog by the collar and we hot footed it back into the house. On the way in I was so focused on the stupid wildlife that I didn't notice the nice fresh pile of dog poop.
Yup, you guessed where this is going.
Bare feet...meet pile of dog poop.
There is no sensation like that of warm dog poop squising through your toes at 230am. It was less than glorious.
I unhooked the dog, hopped to the paper towel rack, cleaned my foot off with the first spray bottle of cleaner I could find and then ran back upstairs just in time for the baby to start screaming. I got her nursed, got the dog settled back down and tucked the three of us in for the night.
5 minutes later all I hear is growling.
The orange devil cat who has a personal vendetta aganist the dog for no reason had snuck into the room while I was de-pooping my toes. I climb out of bed, grab the flashlight that M insists on keeping next to the bed (thank you honey! I understand now), and proceed to wiggle under the bed to haul the devil child out. He was so focused on his hatred for the dog that when I grabbed him, he immediatly launches himself at me, firmly attaching his claws into my scalp.
Dixie gets overly excited at the thumping, hissing, and swearing going on under the bed and starts barking.
Cue baby screaming.
I managed to drag happy feet out from under the bed and chuck him in the most undelicate way out the door with more profanities that I care to admit.
I get the baby calmed down, the dog settled, and everybody tucked back in.
5 minutes later I hear a pitiful little meow from the floor next to the bed.
*headdesk*
Lucca managed to squeak her way in, and wanted a snuggle. Dixie didn't agree in the least. She jumps off the bed and proceeds to chase Lucca 'round and 'round about the room. The baby wakes up again. I grab the first furry body that runs past me (Dixie) and shut her in her crate. I dragged Lucca out from under the bed by her tail and chuck her calico butt out the door.
I get the baby calmed down, the dog settled, a pitiful text message sent to M, and tuck everybody back in. By this point, it's almost 5 AM.
Baby wakes up at 515 starving.
Damn you Murphy. Damn you.
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